


Lighter

by LostGirl



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Bondage, Cock Rings, D/s, Dom!Wesley, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Service Top, sub!Giles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:06:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2258640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostGirl/pseuds/LostGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles is feeling a bit weighed down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lighter

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://viciouswishes.livejournal.com/profile)[**viciouswishes**](http://viciouswishes.livejournal.com/) , who wanted Wes topping Giles.

Giles gasped, arching his body into taunting fingers and reveling in the tightening of the cuffs around his wrists. He couldn't see, didn't know what Wesley would do next and the lack of control excited him. No way of knowing, no way to stop it, nothing to do but lie back and trust the other man.

Wes didn't say a word as he fastened the cockring around his prick, but Giles knew what that felt like, said cockring belonging to him to begin with. He held still, holding back the small whimpers that clogged his throat.

"All that control," Wes whispered, the words so soft he had to strain to hear them as Wesley crawled up his body. There was the occasional, too brief, brush of skin against his own, but the shifting of the mattress beneath Wesley's movement told him where the man was better than the contact. "Everyone looking to you for advice, for the answers. Everyone expecting you to take charge, to know what's going on, how to deal with it."

Fingers plucked at his nipples again and then were gone, the small jolt of arousal hardening his ignored cock further.

"How does it feel Rupert? Hmm? Completely at my mercy. That's a twist, yes? Such a snide man. I suppose that's the frustration though. How often do you actually know what to do?"

Giles tried to pant out an answer, knew it was expected, but couldn't seem to get the words through his throat.

"Tell me, Rupert," Wesley's voice was closer now, brushing over the shell of his ear, warm breath puffing against his neck. "How often?"

"Almost never," he whispered. He moaned as his cock was stroked in reward, his body shuddering with the intensity of just that one touch, delayed for so long.

"They expect you to be . . . more than human? Expect you never to have a single moment of weakness. Do you Rupert?"

"Yes," he said in a shuddering whisper, though his mind wasn't allowed to dwell. Wesley's hands were on his skin again, fingernails raking along inner thigh, teeth biting at his stomach.

"Do things without thinking? Not think about the things most important to you?"

"Ye-Yes." The word came out stuttered as Wesley chose that moment to brush slick fingers over Giles' balls.

"How many times have you failed them Rupert?"

"Too many."

"Do you remember every, single time?"

"Yes."

"It's a weight, isn't it? Sits on your chest. Makes it so hard to breathe, to look them in the eyes." Giles' erection might have wilted then had Wes not had the foresight to put the cockring on him. Then again, Wesley was also not giving him a moment to think about it all. The other man's body moved against his own; cock hard against his hip, trickling pre-cum.

"Yes," he whispered, letting the question itself slip from his mind, focusing on the feel of it all and letting that be everything. Without being able to see, his skin seemed so much more sensitive, almost tingling as he wondered where the next touch would land.

"Day and night. Always there. Every instance, every moment when you might have been able to change things and couldn't." Wesley's lips pressed against his chest, the words muffled, but still understandable.

He suddenly realized why Wes had gotten him so very worked up before beginning this.

"Yes," he said, swallowing hard and then arching again as Wesley's fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking several times. Then Wesley's hands were gone from his body. Giles moaned at the loss, still breathing hard and fast, cock aching for some kind of friction.

There was a shift of the mattress that Giles couldn't track. Then Wesley's lips were against his ear, moving down his neck, the only place their bodies touched.

"I can lighten the load," the man whispered, the tickling of his breath, and the words themselves, were Giles completely honest with himself, drawing a gasp from him. "But you have to ask."

The man's fingers swept down his chest, the touch feather light and teasing. Swallowing hard, his heart rate speeding, Giles gnawed on his lip and Wesley waited, fingers gliding and skimming along his skin and making it terribly hard for Giles to think. Which was, perhaps, the point.

Wesley didn't say anything further, just waited as if it could go on forever that way, with Giles writhing beneath his hands and aching.

"Please," Giles forced the word out, so low he was amazed that Wesley seemed to hear him.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Please," he said a little more forcefully, gasping at the feel of Wesley's fingernails scratching gently at the base of his cock.

"Good," Wesley said against his skin, teeth nipping at one nipple, sending shudders through Giles' body. He felt Wesley lie along side him, felt the man's warm skin pressed against his own and Wes' fingers wrap around his cock, stroking too gently and too slow.

A whimper clawed its way past his lips, his hips bucking of their own volition in a futile attempt to get more, more pressure, more friction.

"What did you do?" Wesley's voice was hard and sharp, startling him a bit after the quiet tones the other man had been using, especially since his mind had very much been on his cock.

"W-what?" Giles swallowed hard, trying to get his mind to work.

"You failed. How?"

Giles stuttered, the words lost to a groan and Wesley's hand closed around his balls, squeezing almost to the point of pain while the man's thumb rubbed at the underside of his cock. The mix of sensations had his gasping once again.

"I, uh, I-I couldn't save Buffy," Giles said softly, the memory of the events surrounding the Master trying to swallow him whole, but shattered by Wesley's hand sliding over his balls, stoking his cock, thumb swiping over the head and pushing at his foreskin.

"And? That wasn't the only time. What else?" Still that same sharp tone that seemed to cut at him, rending flesh, exposing him.

"Eyghon," he panted out, glad of the pain as Wesley's fingernail scratched along his balls, driving away those memories, the image of Jenny's face, twisted and distorted.

Wesley's tongue lapped at the head of his prick and Giles had to fight himself not to jerk his hips, not to try to thrust into the other man's mouth. His cock was well beyond aching and small, desperate noises made their way past his lips.

"What else, Rupert?" Even against his cock, Wes' voice was hard. The man's teeth scrapped over the head of his prick and Giles choked back a shout. "That's not all of it. Is it?"

"No . . . I-I told . . ." Giles panted out, body arching as Wesley tongue dragged along his stomach and into the crease of thigh and groin. The man's hand was tight on his balls, just treading the edge of real pain, waking up all his nerves in anticipation. "I told Angelus about Acathla."

His skin tingled and burned slightly in the wake of Wesley's fingernails down his thigh, sensations amplified and rippling through his body, making his hips jerk and pulling a moan from his throat.

"That's not it," Wesley's hand slapped hard against his flank and Giles started, not having expected something so . . . blatant. "You're holding back, Rupert."

Giles bucked, but Wesley's hand moved away from is cock. In fact, he couldn't feel Wesley at all anymore. His heart rate picked up as he felt the other man leave the bed.

"I . . ." Giles swallowed hard, his throat constricting around the words. He felt Wesley's weight on the bed again, felt the man's hand curl once more around his balls, tightening slowly. "I . . . can't!"

"You don't have a choice," Wesley said, soft again. The words settle on Giles, loosening his throat and chest, breaking through the dam.

"Jenny," Giles whispered, tears stinging his eyes even as his cock pulsed and twitched against Wesley's fingers. "She . . . I should have been there."

Then the cockring was gone and Wesley's mouth was on him, hot and wet. Lost in the tight warmth, the suction, Giles bucked, body going taut as he came, all thought driven from his mind as his nerves exploded. White noise filled his ears, competing with the pounding of his heart. The breath seemed to be driven from his lungs and he jerked, riding out his orgasm as he flooded Wesley's mouth with his release.

Gasping, he fell back onto the bed, body still trembling and rubbery. Wesley licked at his cock, each rasp of tongue against flesh making him shudder. Then the man moved to lie beside him, reaching up for the cuffs without a word.

They both lay there for a moment, Giles trying to regain some semblance of coherency and Wesley, gently rubbing at his wrists. It took Giles a long moment to realize the other man was no longer hard, though he didn't remember Wesley coming. Of course, he wouldn't have noticed had it been during his own orgasm . . . still.

"Thank you," he said softly, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to meet those piercing eyes. "Why, uh, why that way?" Giles had just assumed, when they'd agreed to do this, that Wes would fuck him. The other man hadn't confirmed that, but Giles had assumed it would be what Wes got out of their . . . arrangement.

"Are you familiar with the concept of a sin-eater?" Wesley asked, lips pressed against Giles' bicep.

Giles felt his eyes widen, his mouth dropping open. "You don't, ah, you-you don't actually believe . . ."

"No, no, of course not, but . . . the theory is that it's psychological. Subconscious. Something in us believes and therefore . . . and, you do . . . feel lighter?"

"Yes," Giles said softly, eyes gliding down to Wesley's cock, soft, far too clean for Wes to have come. Blinking, he could feel himself frown. He looked back to Wesley, to ask, but the man laid a finger over his lips.

"Go to sleep, Rupert. I think we could both use some sleep."

Giles wasn't going to listen, wasn't going to let his question drop so easily as that, but there was a sadness to Wesley's voice, a new depth to the man's expression, something . . . different, something he couldn't actually name.

He stared at Wesley for a long moment, still frowning, before he nodded, reaching to turn off the lamp. His eyes caught on the red welts along his wrists, made more obvious by the light. Smiling a bit, he turned off the lamp and sighed as Wesley's arms slid around him from behind.

This . . . hadn't been part of the arrangement, but . . . it felt too good to worry over. Wesley's lips brushed the back of his neck and Giles whispered, "thank you," once again.

"There's no need," Wes replied against his skin. "I . . . I understand."

Giles didn't have the mental energy to ponder that just then; though he promised himself he would think about it all. In the morning.

"Goodnight, Wes."

"Goodnight, Rupert."


End file.
